It was not a knitting-filled weekend for me, as I managed to only finish my Airy Scarf, a pattern from Last-Minute Knitted Gifts.


My friend Eslie so liked the scarf that I offered to make one for her from one of the balls of mohair that came to me via her sister's stash (The guitar pick in the background was not part of the gift).

Eslie's sister lived in NYC some time ago, and much of the stash she amassed whilst living here is not of use to her in Florida. What a nice inheritance!

The goal of the weekend was to find Clapotis' soulmate yarn. I encountered a few possibilities, but nothing spoke to me.

There is a trend here. Two weekends ago, I was in handspun, hand-dyed yarn heaven, but I came home empty-handed. I now know my Clapotis yarn was lurking at Rhinebeck, but it is too late (In my defense, Clapotis was not on my "to knit list" at that time, so was I to know that I was blowing the chance of a lifetime?).

Realizing that I could not fail on two separate yarn ventures, I had to buy something. Another pattern from Last-Minute Knitted Gifts reeled me in, and I finally succumbed to the lure of Koigu.

The Chevron Scarf uses two colors of Koigu KPPPM for a dramatic 78" scarf. I opted for a contrast that I think represents Spring (P822)
and
Autumn (P334)'

This will be a skill-enhancing project for me -- chevron pattern and color work. Obviously, I am bouyed by conquering my fear of knitting with mohair.

I know those photos of my disorganization were very shocking. I think my motivation was simple: the use of public embarassment to kick myself in the pants. I have a difficult time throwing things away if they are in good condition. I always ponder the idea of consigning or onlining auctioning the good stuff.

Well, I have made some progress. Both of those corners are pared down and more organized. In all of the excitement, I have managed to misplace my anti-baby pills. Let us pray that the fruits of my labor are not the fruits of my womb.

Now that I have helped the Red Sox reverse the curse, I must plot my next history-altering intervention. Should I be setting my sites on next Tuesday?

This could lose me a home and a lover, but I going to be knitting in these tonight.

All too often there is information floating around that is incorrect. One never knows how this information was disseminated, as it was usually read or heard somewhere -- "I can't remember, but..."

So much has been made of Ashley Simpson's lip sync debacle on SNL this weekend, but I am quite thankful for it. Otherwise, I would have gone on believing, with a great deal of sadness, that Liz Phair sang that song.Where the hell did I get my information that "Pieces of Me" was sung by Liz Phair? The Ministry of Misinformation.

There is an easy political tie-in that could start here, regarding the link between the Ministry of Misinformation and the Ministry of Fear, but I will let it rest.

My Ministry of Fear is headed up my mohair. My first attempt was less than a year ago. Knitting Project #2 in my short life as a knitter. My poison was Paton's Divine. The experience was anything but.

In the spirit of knitting as a learning experience, I felt compelled to give it another go. I found an adorable quick-knit in Joelle's Hoverson's new book, and I found this mysterious yarn in my meager stash.

I honestly have no idea where I procured that. No idea.

This is the result so far of my first attempt at an easy lace-like pattern in mohair.

I am quite pleased, although, I have a suspicion that my yardage is considerably less than what is required to complete the project. I have yarn labels all over the house, but the one to this vintage mohair blend is not in the crowd.

Yes, we have all heard that statement, but it always struck me as a bit backwards when applied to my brand of organization.

I fight (and lose) vigourously against clutter. I have a small stash, but somehow, the yarn, the beads, the roving, the books, the everything I own end up taking over the apartment. Joe, Kevin, and Lukas are rather quiet on the subject. Actually, Joe is not quiet on the subject but picks the correct moment to broach it.

Here is a small sample of the Storm Before the Calm. Bear in mind that nothing was posed or added to the frame. This is it -- real life. Real messy.

This is the corner of the bedroom that I have co-opted as my dressing room, computer room, and library. Joe keeps some clothing in here as well, but it is clearly "my room".

And because there are many corners in the apartment, and clutter multiples like rabbits, no corner is safe.

Lately, I have been hit with a number of "what the...?" moments -- both culturally and personally.

For instance, when did Usher start wearing a shirt?
Take that, rewind it back. I don't wanna see your style.
I wanna see your abs.

When did the muppet look became the standard of beauty?


When did being a talentless git, a bimbo, or a slacker make you a literary genius?
Apparently when you are Victoria Giotti, Pam Anderson, Monica Lewinsky, or Ethan Hawke. Oddly enough, each of these "writers" has a bit of the muppet it them. Coincidence?

Most importantly, when did I become so frumpy? In my fashion heyday, I often wondered about the transition from fashion-do to fashion-don't. Was the process, like weight gain, a gradual one? Or was it a shocking overnight event wherein you go to your closet to find all of your great clothing and shoes replaced by nylon "blouzez", stretchy polyester "slacks", and squeaky Easy Spirit-type "sneakers" -- one in every basic color -- to match your slacks, of course?

I could still be years away from such a radical shift, but I know it is happening. I can feel it; I can see it. It could be any number of reasons. Maybe I am too complacent in my relationship with Joe, so I am no longer "trying". My days of European business/shopping trips, where I could shop the Euro-Gap equivalent without the stigma of seeing my outfit on sixty other ladies on the #1 train, are long behind me. And just maybe, I was never as hip and fashionable as I thought I was. Maybe I no longer see myself through funky-colored glasses.

Honestly, I am not sure if I should invest in the latest copies of Vogue and Rowan magazines for some guidance, or if I should dowse my head in Manic Panic. It is a dreary, cold weekend -- the possibilities are endless.

With the exception of a few terrorists hiding in spider holes and those fighting in Darfur, the Yankees' loss is the news of the day.

Joe pulled out all of the stops and even went so far as to bribe Lukas to stand beside him throughout the game. "If you stand here and make the Yankees win, I'll give you $50." Since I am eyeing some Fleece Artist yarn for Cozy, I informed Joe that I could stand beside him. With earnest, he turned to me, "You are the reason we didn't wrap this up at Game Four."

Since Joe is a superstitious fool and I am a vengeful bitch, I marched into the bedroom, donned a pair of red socks, and I proceeded to stomp around the house until the top of the 9th inning.

I finally finished Amy's
Boogie Vest.

I am not convinced that I like what the neckline does, but I sure do like what it does for my boobs. Who said chunky yarns are not flattering?

Last night, to soften the blow of a third loss at the hands of the Red Sox, Joe watched the game on a Spanish Channel. He has been moping around since this weekend when the Red Sox won Game Four.

I want everyone to know that the Red Sox won because I made it happen. At least that is Joe's theory. Somewhere in the 7th or 8th inning, the Yankees were poised to win, shutting out the series. I have a tendency to root for the underdog, and I felt bad for Boston to have not won at least one game in the series. I casually mentioned this to Joe, and his response? To laugh until he had tears in his eyes.

He can think that it was the power of my words that has fans from Naussau to the North End biting their nails through seven games, but frankly, I think his laughter angered the baseball gods. Clearly, the Yankees are being punished Joe's for his cruel laughter at the expense of the Sox.

For the sake of my relationship with Joe, I am avoiding the living room tonight. I will take a bath, do some knitting (Rowan's Pagan), and attempt to get a decent night of sleep. Am I wicked to hope for an outcome that will insure sleep for me but unhappiness for Joe?

Yesterday, I arrived home to a paltry stack of the usual boring mail, but nestled amongst the envelopes was something that looked a bit more personal. Indeed, it was. A RAOK from Mattie.

Joe and I have a special fondness for lady bugs, so this is a double treat.

Maybe my posts made it seem as if I was disappointed by my first attendance of the NY Sheep and Wool Festival. I guess you could say that it was a bit of a disappointment...in my ability to buy some damn yarn!

Sadly, my friends could not make it, which probably cut down on some of the fun I would have had. Also, my lack of email/computer access denied me the vital information for hooking up with a few NYC bloggers who were heading north. Damned computer!

Maybe it is hard to catch fiber fever when you are alone or travelling with a non-knitter. I am very picky about color and such, which limits my options. Those variegated yarns look gorgeous when hanging as a skein, but I am not convinced that I want to wear the result. Heathered hues do not appeal to me either. And there's only so much cream and tan that a gal is willing to buy. Buy I must have visited every booth two or three times, fondled the yarn, and told the proprietor how lovely their yarn was. I meant every work.

Although I came home nearly empty-handed, I did enjoy the two days thoroughly. The weather was cooperative, the trees were gorgeous, and the ride was pleasant. What more could I ask for? It was a perfect weekend in the country.

Wild Wooly Weekend Day #2 threatened to be a disaster. The NYC friends cancelled (with good reason), and Joe was far more interested in lazing around the house than gearing up for a day of following me around whilst I fondled yarn for several hours.

Thus, I was set to spend the day alone, roaming the vendor booths at the New York Sheep & Wool Festival, but Joe's mother was kind enough to join me for another round. She is not a knitter, so I felt her accompanying me two days in a row was a testament to how much she likes 1) me and 2) getting out for the day. I probably wrote those in reverse order. Joe's mother got to pet an alpaca.


I am not sure if I can even call myself a knitter. Today, I bought one back issue of Interweave Knits and a single skein of yarn. And, I am happy to report that the Black Spotted Leopards were awake today.


I crossed paths with Stephanie (Yarn Harlot) again today, and she was definately making up for my poor purchasing power. I felt shamed in her presence. I told myself that any of that yarn can be bought locally or ordered online, which definately soothed my fretting about "missing out". Besides, how much wool does one gal need?

I attended the NY Sheep and Wool Festival today, and it was definately much more rewarding than the NY Knit Out.

Highlights:
Meeting Yarn Harlot, resplendant in her Rhinebeck Sweater. She is a genuine, warm, sweet person.
Sampling venison pepperoni.
A light green verison (maybe 88?) of Klaralund, which restirred my lust for this pattern.
The Lemurs of Madagascar.

The Black Spotted Leopards who looked at drugged out on allergy medicine as I was. Conked out!

I was there for at least four hours, and my only purchase? A wedge of cheese! Clearly, I am in need of some instruction and enabling when it comes to increasing my collection of yarn and roving. Maybe someone will come to my rescue tomorrow.

One of the requirements of my former job in cosmetics was “retail math”. Frankly, I am unsure as to how this differs from “regular math”, as it involves addition, subtraction, division, and multiplication. Fractions and percentages make an appearance, but it is not complicated.

Similarly, I raised an eyebrow over the suggestion of “knitting math”. Again, this just involves knowing the stitches to the inch, the final measurements, and a bit of easy math to sort out the number of stitches to cast on.

Well, my smugness was repaid handsomely. After a third attempt to perform the three-needle bind off on the shoulders of Boogie, I had a strange feeling that all of this was a message to say, “Take a closer look. Do not be fooled into thinking that you are nearly finished.” Sure enough! There are two major fit issues:
1) The neckline – perhaps I was to continue working the cable pattern?
2) The back piece is a bit too small – did I cast on enough stitches?

I have not sorted out the mystery of the neckline, but I leaned that simple reading and math escapes me. The pattern called for me to cast on 56[60, 64, 68] stitches. Somehow, I interpreted this as cast on 50 stitches. Thus, my finished product is six stitches shy of the requirements. Gawd!

My hard drive is dying a slow death, so posting will be sans photos and erratic at best. I apologize for this glitch.

This morning, I finished off the last of my gigantic jar of local honey with my tea. To my horror, I was caught honeyless. It is probably difficult to grasp how much I love honey. It is an obsession; a passion. I am a honey ho. I have made a habit of buying honey when I travel, and I will often have a few opened jars around the house. Try whipping together honey and peanutbutter the next time you have a banana. Yummy!

At any rate, I returned home from my regular job and my sometimes job to find a large, fragile, insured package from my Knitty Cafe Secret Pal. Oh, and there was an Allue magazine there as well. I played it cool. I heated up some soup and stared at the box. Mid-bowl, I grabbed the box cutters and had at it.

What an amazing package! Here are some of the items I received.

Note the jar...it is a jar of honey! And the cute soap with the honeybee? Too much! But there is more:

A jar of honey from Greece, that as you can see, it has already deflowered and ready to sweeten my evening cup of tea.

As if my Secret Pal has not spoiled me enough, she included:

I mentioned once in a blog that I was thinking of trying my hand at spinning to make use of some of the roving I have left from wet felting projects.

Look at this gorgeous drop spindle! Look at it! Closely...

THANK YOU SECRET PAL!

For the past three weeks, I have shown up early to knitting class without a project. I make use of my 90+ minute early arrival to chat with the proprietess/teacher and the sniff around for either a pattern or yarn to call out to me.

Actually, last week I arrived with a pattern (Boogie), but it took me the full 90 minutes to settle on yarn for the vest. Since my computer is slowly dying, I was able to finish knitting Boogie in good time. I decided to finish-finish Boogie during the Vice Presidential Debates. All I had to do was join the front and back shoulders with a three needle bind off and seam the sides. So distracted was I that I managed to bind off the front RS to the back WS. Duh! Now, I will spend the week attempting to pick out the bind off with losing stitches. Obviously, I cannot seam the sides until I have corrected the should joins. Pisser.

I started Cozy last night. I have not checked, but as I knitted several rows post-Boogie bind off, I have probably bungled the damn thing as well. I blame it all on Dick Cheney.

Hard Luck for the Soft Addiction

At some point last week (the exact day is a blur), my computer started emitting odd sounds -- a combination of static and alien transmissions. Shortly after intergalactical contact, a pretty blue window appeared, and informed me of a not-so-pretty memory dump. Since that fateful day, I have pretty much avoided the computer (ignore it; it will go away). This has given me more "quality time" with Joe, which is me knitting whist he watches sports. As a result, I am quite near to finishing Boogie. I am not entirely convinced that the neckline is turning out according to the designer, but I will make it work somehow.

I am so near finishing Boogie, in fact, that I will need to make a yarn run this evening in order to have a project for tomorrow night's Knit/Crochet Class.

Still unfinished is the Suss handbag. I received the handles over the weekend, however, the eBay seller failed to do anything in terms of shipping beyond rubberbanding the four handles together and tossing them into a plain manilla envelope. Amazing that only one was cracked. Nevertheless, I cannot move forward with finishing the handbag until I resolve the issue of the broken handle. Oh, and buy fabric to line the interior. I forgot about that.

Yesterday, I attended Knit Out NY, and I was quite disappointed. I am not sure what I was expecting, but the highlight was the parade of people wearing weather-inappropriate outterwear in the name of showing off their knitting prowess. Hop on over to Gidget's blog to check out photos.

Sadly, photos of projects, the cat, or neighborhood turkeys will be tricky, given my computer disaster. Either I buy a new computer, or I figure out how to run covert photo-blogging operatons at work. Suggestions?